


the butter effect

by birthdayblur



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, beginner witch!minhyun, meowing is a love language, sickly sweet and laced with sugar, social worker!seongwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birthdayblur/pseuds/birthdayblur
Summary: Minhyun may be casting the best pastries for this one customer, but that's only because he really, truly, wishes him the best. (really).And call it a sixth sense, but he's starting to think that this customer wishes the same for him too.





	the butter effect

**Author's Note:**

> hello! if you're coming into this, excepting minhyun to be a magical master baker, head's up- he's not. but he tries. and seongwu tries. and they're really too dumb, but that's what makes them perfect for each other. 
> 
> enjoy <3 
> 
>  
> 
> prompt 54.
> 
> minhyun owns a lil magical bakery that is only visible to those who are having tough days so they can cheer up with his lucky pastries and he can't help but notice this one customer that has been coming in every day without a fail for the past 7 months

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

In this world, magic is limited to the mundane.

There’s a flavour to it, and it’s definitely _there_ \- Minhyun feels it as soon as he wakes up, the thrum of the city, and an intricate web of connections tethering together all that has life. It’s just that magic has long left common-use, almost forgotten in a society that upholds the merits of academics and technology.

Minhyun feels that firsthand, when he tells his parents that he’s leaving his nine-to-five job at a multinational firm. He doesn’t specify the reason, because he knows that they’ll vehemently disapprove, even more so than when he gives a vague impression that he’s pursuing an entrepreneurship.

His relationship with his parents is sticky, and Minhyun would best describe it through the lack of childhood memories he retains. There’s some photographs, but around the age of eight they mostly slow down to only capture birthdays and school award ceremonies. He can never complain though- they give him everything he needs, and he repays it with studying hard.

But at the age of twenty-four, while rummaging through his grandmother’s things in her house in Busan, his sister Sujin comes in dressed in all black, a small box of photographs in her hand.  

“It’s been a while, Min,” she smiles softly. “I thought we could look at these to reminisce.”

The photograph at the very top is a mixture of oranges and washed out colours, harsh white lines creasing the centres, paper cracked from overuse.

It stirs a childhood memory that stands different from the rest, one that he had tried so hard to forget.

At the age of eight, there had been an autumn visit to his grandmother’s village, on the outskirts of Busan.

The air had been cool and crisp when they first left Seoul, and Minhyun was excited because it was the first time they ever did something quite like this. Sujin told him that the things he would see in grandmother’s house were nothing like what he’d seen in primary school. Minhyun argued otherwise, but that’s only because the notion itself was mind-blowing.

Sujin was right of course, like she always is. Even as they got off the train, the energy around him was definitely _different._

Grandmother had been surprised when she opened the door, but she was nice and kind, and gave him cookies. And as Sujin promised, that autumn was the first time he saw something truly mind-blowing.

It had been in the kitchen, with his chin placed on a flour-dusted table. Just earlier, Minhyun tried to snatch the bowl from Sujin, and the rice powder tipped and scattered. Grandmother only smiled, which surprised Minhyun, and divided the dough in half.

“Sujin-ah. Minhyun-ah. Some people say that there’s only ever two sides. But the world is far more complicated than that.”

“Halmeoni!” Minhyun had pouted, a table-length’s away from a glaring Sujin. “It was my turn to knead!”

“No! Halmeoni said I could-”

They had both stopped talking when flour was suddenly suspended in the air. Then it fell down gracefully, settling onto the timber, as if it never were disturbed at all.

“Children. Let me tell you about the power of the number seven.” Grandmother had given a half of dough to each of them. “There’s three of us here, so divide the dough into three.” Minhyun and Sujin did as told. “Now how many pieces of dough do we have in total?”

“Six!” Minhyun had piped up, after counting each with a tiny finger. He was too entranced to notice Sujin snickering about how addition was the only mathematics ability he had.

“Good job, Minhyun-ah. What was the number I said before?”

“Seven, halmeoni,” Sujin had said, trying to come off as nonchalant, but unable to hide the sparks in her eyes.

“Very good. Now our friend, the number seven, he’s a seeker. He knows that what we see here,” Grandmother had waved a hand in the air, closing it into a fist. “Isn’t what actually is.”

Minhyun had gasped when her fist unfurled, revealing a seventh ball of dough.

“So I hope, Minhyun-ah, that the next time Sujin doesn’t immediately do something you want, you would count to at least seven,” Grandmother had leant down, eliciting a giggle by dotting a patch of flour onto Minhyun’s nose. “Otherwise, you might never find out what actually is.”

After a while, Sujin had averted her eyes and pushed the rest of the dough to Minhyun’s side of the table. “I was going to give it to you anyway, Min.”

It was Chuseok then, and Minhyun had learnt in school that it was tradition to go back to your hometown and honour your ancestors. Thus it only took a little bit for Sujin to convince Minhyun to sneak out with her from their house in Seoul at midnight.

Together, they caught the first train to Busan, all the way to their Grandmother’s.

The aftermath is not a childhood memory that Minhyun would prefer to remember.

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

When the wind chimes tinkle with an array of harmonious notes, Minhyun finishes off his sentence, then slips his bookmark onto the page he was reading. The first snow had only been a few days ago, bringing with it a chilled wind that ushers its way through to the counter at the far end of the bakery.

Minhyun feels a shiver run down his arms, clothed thinly by the fabric of his button-up. It’s not the shiver one usually gets when the environment suddenly turns cold. It’s a shiver felt by someone in possession of magic, when in the presence of a life energy that they’ve been exposed to for months on end.

It means he’s here.

Habitually, Minhyun wipes his hands clean of something invisible onto his apron, and watches the customer make his normal peruse through the store. A few months ago he had been annoyed at the customer’s regularity, but those feelings have long faded. Now he just feels bad.

Since there’s nothing in particular that the man always buys, usually immediately drawn to any new thing, Minhyun had decided to start practicing a different recipe a week. It’s only a small gesture, but he likes seeing the man’s features light up at the sight of the pastries freshly made.

“I’ll have these palmiers.”

The man places the bag on the counter, then rubs an eyebrow. It’s a nice one, Minhyun’s noticed, and thick. “They’re new, right? I haven’t seen them in the store before.”

“They are,” Minhyun utters, because he’s always too formal around people he doesn’t know. Maybe this time he shouldn’t. It’s not like this man’s a stranger. Minhyun rings the bag up on the cash register. “Six thousand won, please.”

The man takes a while to unzip his white parka, and then fishes around in the pocket of his denim jacket. Scrunching his nose up, he finally procures six blue notes.

“Sorry about that,” the man apologises, giving him a tight-lipped smile. The smile almost looks like a pout. It’s kind of cute. “I should get a wallet someday. It must be annoying.”

“No, you never are.”

He immediately catches himself. That’s the first time he’d ever said something beyond the normal customer service talk. The man looks surprised, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Minhyun sees him smile with teeth for the first time in seven months. They’re kind of crooked. It’s endearing.

The corners of his own lips begin to rise too.

Then Minhyun coughs.

After this customer leaves, he should air the bakery out because it’s suddenly feeling stuffy. His cheeks feel a little warm, and he looks down at the timber counter, covered in scratch marks from the cat that frequents the store.

Minhyun can’t bring himself to look back up at the man. It’s because he’s busy putting the bag of palmier pastries into another bag, one with handles.

That’s important, right?

Once he’s done, he looks around the counter to see if there’s anything else he’d forgotten, but there’s only the book he put down when he first heard the wind chimes at the door, and nothing else.

 _Darn_. Serves him right for not running a proper bakery.

Right in front of his line of sight, the man suddenly gestures with a hand to where Minhyun’s trying to avoid his gaze. “Oh, you’re reading _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_?” the man asks. “Which part are you up to?”

Having his head down only seems to amplify the heat spreading to his ears. It’s not like he wants to admit to reading a children’s story- there’s just a particular chapter he’d been mulling over.

“The part about the house elves in Hogwarts.”

The man starts speaking faster in excitement, his voice bubbling with fervour. “Ah! Kitchen magic, right? I’ve always thought that they have it the coolest, making so much good food magically appear and stuff.”

Minhyun immediately looks up, the bag of pastries dangling from his hand. “Definitely! If you think about it, everyone depends on food to survive. It’s just a small thing, but magic makes their lives so much better.”

Now that he’s looking at the man again, he swallows when he sees that he still has the same smile on his face.

“Maybe we should talk more often,” the man grins. _Oh_. It’s a grin now. Okay.

Minhyun returns it with a courteous smile.

Then the man looks down, and brings out a phone.

_Okay._

Minhyun blinks, palms starting to feel a little sweaty, as he watches the man turn it on. The other’s brow furrows in concentration. It’s a strong and defined one, the kind that Minhyun’s always liked.

Then the man’s eyes widen.

“Crap! It’s already past 3?” Before Minhyun can compute, he’s jogging backwards out of the store, bag in hand. Minhyun’s mind is blank. “Thanks for adding palmiers to your bakery! They’re my favourite childhood memory! I’ve always liked the butterfly shape!”

There’s a dull, melodious sound. The bakery’s now empty.

Minhyun sighs.

Well. He’ll probably be back tomorrow.

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

Minhyun’s strong begging, or more likely the promise of the most expensive food in Seoul, is what finally convinces Sujin to fly back and recast the filtering spell.

It’s usually enchanted onto a candle, though the candle’s now almost burnt down into a stub. The remnants of the magic have pooled into wax at the bottom of a cast-iron lantern, hanging next to a door which is always unlocked to those who are permitted to see it.

The door leads into Minhyun’s bakery, self-described as old and antique. It’s all dark timber, sub-par lighting, incessant dust and a persistent musty smell. If you look towards the wooden table at the front of the store, directly in front of the diamond-patterned glass, a cat sometimes lazes on its back and basks in the sun.

Minhyun dislikes that cat. It pushes open the door with its nose, causing the wind chimes to ring and Minhyun to look up. Minhyun only looks up if there’s a customer. Otherwise he has his own nose in a book.

If Minhyun’s bakery was transmuted into a person, it would be the exact opposite of Minhyun. Minhyun would be aluminium, sleek white tiles, disinfectant and definitely no stray cat hairs. Minhyun wouldn’t be able to stand stray cat hairs in his pastries.

But sometimes there _are_ stray cat hairs. Minhyun sees them when a customer bites a pastry right from the brown paper bag. He makes an awkward stuttering sound and reaches out his hand, but the filtering spell must be pretty powerful because they always gobble it up in a flash.

Minhyun’s still human though so he feels a little bad. But he presses his lips into a tight line and smiles, since the bakery’s customers are never in the right mood to be picky about what they eat anyway. He doesn’t say anything beyond the standard salutations.

(The filtering spell ensures that whoever sees his bakery can only do so if their today’s been tough. It was Sujin’s idea of course. Magic was always meant for good things, or so he was told.)

Even though he owns a bakery, Minhyun isn’t a professional baker. That doesn’t _just_ mean not having a license. Minhyun doesn’t know if he could call himself a baker at all. The kitchen at the back of the store is only half-used. There’s cobwebs and a family of spiders living in the cast-iron oven. Everything he bakes, he bakes through spells.

The first spell Sujin taught him was how to _nuke the dough._ That’s what Sujin calls it. Minhyun doesn’t know if there’s a proper term, (and if there is), how to find it at all. It’s because, before the last seven months, Minhyun had lived his life separating himself from magic.

But he’s different now. That’s why he reads books and tries to call up Sujin at night even though she’s on an indefinite (now interrupted) honeymoon. That’s why he doesn’t dare chase the family of multiplying spiders or the mangy cat out of the store with a broom. (He hasn’t figured out why they can see his bakery yet- his running guess is that they’re magically important.)

That’s why, seven months ago, he opened the bakery in the first place.

Minhyun’s still learning.

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

“Your flight’s delayed?”

Minhyun blinks unbelievingly at the mirror on the bakery’s wall, then furrows his brow slightly when his sister doesn’t respond immediately.

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” Sujin placates, eyes fixed on something off the edge of the mirror-glass.

The sun had only just rose when Minhyun heard the call from Sujin. At the time, he was getting ready for opening, elbow-deep in some sort of flour-water concoction, trying to guesstimate whether he needed more flour, or less flour. Or no flour?

From what he’d read, receiving a call was meant to feel like getting an electric shock, except concentrated in your brain. It confused him then, when the feeling of energy that was unexplainably _Sujin,_ translated to only a tingle.

Washing up his hands and arms, and heading over to the mirror behind the counter, he had soon realised that Sujin was definitely not in Seoul, severely jetlagged. Which probably explains the subdued nature of the jolt, if he thinks about it akin to a long-distance transmission.

Rather she’s in the airport, judging from the people dragging suitcases in the background. As soon as the projection of Sujin had appeared on the mirror though, the first thing he noticed was that the sun was setting, not rising. Sujin can’t recast the filtering spell if she’s halfway across the globe.

And looking at her now, with 10 percent of her brain concentrated on Minhyun, and the other 90 percent off somewhere, hopelessly in love, it’s almost like she doesn’t care about his crisis. Which, fair enough, considering Minhyun only ever asks her questions about magic.

“Noona, I can’t _possibly_ do it myself,” Minhyun whines. He’s not powerful enough, and this time it’s _urgent._ However, it only manages to stop her from walking and earn him a disgusted glare.

“Stop it with the aegyo,” Sujin whispers through bared teeth. The surface shimmers from the energy of her magical projection. “It didn’t work when you were a kid, so please, stop thinking it’ll work now.”

He would, but that’s the only way he remembers how to get her attention. Minhyun pouts. “I’m _definitely_ not strong enough yet, _noona_. My pastries are meant to be _magic_ -”

Sujin’s eyes widen. “S-shut!” she almost yells, while sprinting, and Minhyun watches in confusion as she dodges past various blurry people at the airport. She’d gone quite a fair distance, when she reaches an isolated spot behind a column and takes a laboured breath. Looking around frantically, Sujin holds her mirror up to give him another glare. “Shut up, Min. Aron doesn’t know yet.”

Purple sparks leap over the surface of the mirror. Minhyun flinches slightly- he’s still not quite used to seeing magic that’s not his own.

“Seriously?” Minhyun asks with eyebrows raised. “So you’ve been married to him for a few months now, and you still haven’t told him that you’re a witch?”

“Hey!” Sujin fires back, with narrowed eyes. “I’m not a witch. Witches wear cone hats and all black. Just because halmeoni taught me magic doesn’t mean I’m a witch.”

Right. That’s what mum and dad had called grandmother. Minhyun takes this as an opportunity to learn more. “Wait, so what _are_ we if we aren’t witches?”

Sujin sighs. “Witches are like… the traditional term. Seoul’s too advanced and obsessed with the future now. Practically no one there knows magic anymore. It’s just me, a little bit of you, and some people who live on the outskirts, probably.” She closes her eyes, in likely frustration, and raises a palm to the ceiling. “New York is different, Min. This city is _alive_ with energy.”

Minhyun blinks. “Then what would they call us in New York?”

“Well they would call _me_ a world-class chef,” Sujin says in a jokingly pompous way. “I wouldn’t know about you.”

“Ha-ha. Funny.”

“Magic is just… it’s inherited, Min. And passed down through the generations. I’m just too busy to teach you now. You’ll have to keep practicing by yourself, with the exercises I taught you.”

He sighs. He knows that. “I’m still too scared to try my own food though, noona. What if I get food poisoning, like Aron-hyung did when I first baked something?”

Sujin shakes her head, her smile a little fond. They haven’t been reunited for long, but Minhyun’s already realised that he’s missed when she’s nice like that. “Well at least you’ve got the fire spell under control, right? You told me that you haven’t burnt anything in a month. That’s a really good sign.”

“But you said the most basic spell is the _good luck_ spell,” Minhyun refutes. “There’s that one customer who keeps having bad days, and my spell just doesn’t seem to work on him no matter what.”

He doesn’t know whether she heard what he said, because her attention had been drawn elsewhere again. From the look of panic dawning on her face, Minhyun can probably guess by what. “Oh shoot. O-oh, Aron’s found me, Min.” She hurriedly looks back. “Uh, for the filtering spell, try sprinkling a little cinnamon, and then stuffing some agrimony- oh wait, you’re in the city, uh-”

The expression on her face suddenly changes, and she looks off into the distance with the widest smile. “Oh, honey! Yeah, just- just touching up my makeup. Yeah, I felt like a little exercise, the snow’s been making it harder to keep in shape-”

The picture in the mirror shimmers, and Sujin is replaced by his own blinking reflection. The tingling in his head disappears, as well as the sparks on the mirror-glass. She probably won’t be back.

He stands there for a while, wondering if there’s any other options, before coming to the conclusion that there really is none. Sujin’s his only link to the magic world, unless he wants to move to somewhere like Jeju, but practicing magic by growing tangerines the size of his head doesn’t sound appealing at all. He’s a city man, and always susceptible to homesickness, so he would rather stay in Seoul, baking good luck spells into pastries.

But he can only tell if they’re working as intended, by the number of customers who come back to his store after eating his wares. If he doesn’t have the filtering spell just anyone could come in, and he’d probably have to start all over.

He should probably try the cinnamon.

Minhyun heads to the kitchen through the little door next to the counter, accidentally knocking his head on the doorframe. His thoughts are elsewhere though. Things like herbology, numerology and divination- they’re magical studies he can easily pull off the internet. Minhyun’s memorised them long ago.

He knows that cinnamon is brief but powerful, used in shielding and fire magic. He doesn’t have agrimony- that’s a flower, if he remembers correctly.

He just hopes that the filtering spell can last for a little longer before Sujin comes back. That one customer who comes by everyday had smiled yesterday. It’s a nice smile. He’d like to think that his pastries have leant a little to it.

A handful of cinnamon piled on his palm, and his coat put on, Minhyun makes his way back to the front of the store. Something familiar brushes past his leg, and he watches as the cat waits patiently next to the door of the bakery like it’s its home. The cat always comes and goes as it pleases, and if he didn’t have the wind chimes, Minhyun would never know whenever it comes inside the bakery, since it never makes a sound. He hasn’t even bothered to name it.

As he opens the door, accompanied by the tinkling sound of the chimes, the cat squeezes past.

There’s a little mountain of snow on the lid of the rusting candle lantern. When he wipes the condensation from the outside of the glass, he can see a sad stub the size of a pebble with the hint of a wick and flame- he swears that isn’t a good sign.

Lifting the lid, he pours the cinnamon into the lantern, and then shuts it tight. He leans down and peers into the glass again, but-

He squints.

There’s no glow.

He’s not sure if it’s buried underneath the pile of cinnamon, but he _definitely_ can’t see a flame.

“Um.”

Hurriedly pulling open the lid, he reaches his hand inside to try and push the cinnamon off. The lantern is fixed a little too high up for the inflexibility of his wrist, and his wiggling fingers don’t quite reach the pile- he definitely needs to go back in and get a stool, but he’s _almost_ there, and-

_Meow._

“Cat, did you just-”

“ _Ahjussi_?”

Minhyun freezes. He looks around, at the empty street which is rightfully empty because of how early in the morning it is.

“ _Meow._ ”

He has a spell to worry about- he doesn’t really want to look down and start talking to a cat that has magically begun speaking with a strangely squeaky, high-pitched voice.

Something pokes his side, and he automatically recoils from the touch.

Wait, isn’t his side a bit high up?

Minhyun looks down to see large, blinking eyes.

This isn’t the cat. This is _definitely_ a small child.

“ _Meow._ ”

A small, meowing, definitely _alone_ child.

 _Darn_. The spell must’ve extinguished itself.

Minhyun bends down until he’s at eye-level. The child looks back curiously at him. It’s then that he notices the now-sleeping cat nestled in his arms.

“Uh, kid, where are your parents?”

The child doesn’t respond, only looking at him with big round eyes. Minhyun swallows. He doesn’t really know how to act around kids. Before he opened his bakery, he only stayed in a cubicle and dealt with adults. Kids don’t usually have tough days either.

“Do you have a name?” Minhyun asks tentatively.

The eyes widen, like he’d only just understood what Minhyun was saying. “Guanlin!” the child pipes up.

“Okay, Guanlin,” Minhyun starts. The name is foreign on his tongue, and he realises that the child must not be able to understand Korean. “You’re not meant to be able to see this bakery, so I’m going to lock this door right now, and take you to the police station.”

Guanlin tilts his head, probably overwhelmed by all the words Minhyun had just said. He doesn’t blame him. People have always commented on how he much he talks.

Minhyun reaches for the cat, to try and put it down on the ground, but Guanlin shakes his head, vehemently insisting _otherwise_ with his expression. He settles for poking the cat’s cheek instead, until it wakes up.

“Come on,” Minhyun says, slightly pushing the cat until it takes the hint and wriggles out of Guanlin’s grasp. It slinks back into the bakery. Guanlin’s expression falls. He feels sorry for the child- he knows what it’s like for things to be taken from him.

“Let’s go,” Minhyun says gently, straightening up, and taking Guanlin’s hand.

Guanlin doesn’t budge. “Hyung,” he says firmly, looking up at him.

“Oh. That’s right. I wonder how much Korean you know already.” Minhyun points to himself. “Hyung.”

The sparse eyebrows lift (Minhyun knows how that feels too), and Guanlin shakes his head. “Ahjussi,” he says, pointing at Minhyun.

Oh. Kay. “Well, technically I’m not old enough to be called _ahjussi._ I’m only twenty-four, well twenty-three to you, since I don’t think you’re Korean.” Minhyun pauses. He needs to stay on track. “We need to go now, Guanlin. I don’t think your parents know you’re here.”

He tries pulling Guanlin’s hand again, but the child only turns his head and points somewhere down the road. “Hyung.” Then he turns back and points down at the spot where he’s standing. “Here.”

Clarity comes to Minhyun. “Ah! So you’re saying that your hyung told you to wait here?”

Guanlin nods.

Minhyun takes another look around.

Only a few cars have passed by, and the air is frosty and the sky still downcast. He doesn’t know why Guanlin’s hyung is so irresponsible. The ground is layered with a fresh batch of snow, and from the way Guanlin is looking like he’s trying so hard not to shiver, he mustn’t be wearing enough. Anything could happen in the early morning in this part of Seoul. He’s lucky Minhyun’s the one who found him first.

“Guanlin,” Minhyun begins softly. The child isn’t looking at him with big eyes anymore, instead blinking a lot more faster, bottom lip jutting out further than before. Minhyun decides to change the tone of his voice to something more bright. “Ah, why don’t we go inside my bakery and wait for your hyung there?” Minhyun turns and pushes the door open slightly, and the cat peers out. “Look! It’s warm too!”

Guanlin purses his lips. Minhyun makes a show of putting on his cheeriest expression, curving his eyes and opening his mouth happily. Guanlin still looks conflicted, glancing down the road, and then back up at Minhyun.

“I _promise_ I’m not scary,” Minhyun half-whines, his aegyo naturally coming out. At this point, he’s willing to try anything. “Look! _Meow. Meow._ ”

He bows his head. How embarrassing.

Guanlin’s eyes suddenly widen, but this time he’s not looking at Minhyun. There’s a familiar feeling against his leg, and Minhyun looks down to see the cat walking over. With _his_ pastry in its mouth.

“Oh, Guanlin, no, don’t eat that-“

Minhyun’s reflexes aren’t quite quick enough to stop Guanlin from plucking the pastry out of the cat’s mouth, and taking a big bite of it. Minhyun cringes at the uncleanliness.

“Well. If that works, then I really can’t say anything.” Minhyun opens the door wide. “There’s more pastries in there. _Cleaner_ ones.”

Guanlin strolls in, still nibbling.

After making sure that Guanlin is occupied with some palmiers, Minhyun walks back out, hands in the pockets of his coat. He looks up and down the road, bouncing on the heels of his feet. There’s a lot more cars than before as Seoul begins to wake up, and he wonders why Guanlin’s hyung told him to stay here, which coincidentally is the location of his bakery.

Sujin had trusted Minhyun with choosing the location himself, since she wasn’t as familiar with Seoul than she was with Busan. So he purposely set up somewhere a little more isolated, as to not get overwhelmed with customers early on in his attempts at baking.

He doesn’t know what kind of person Guanlin’s hyung might be if he’s floating around this neighbourhood at this time of the day though, so now he’s feeling a little nervous, and maybe also wondering if he should head back inside.

Crap. He doesn’t know whether Guanlin’s hyung was here before or after the filtering spell extinguished. Would he have seen Minhyun’s bakery? If he saw it while the spell was still active, what kind of hyung would he be, if his day has already gone bad eight hours into it?

A shiver runs down his spine. Minhyun’s mentally debating the pros and cons of possibly meeting Guanlin’s scary foreigner hyung, until he suddenly hears a sound.

_Meow._

He glances at the door of the bakery, but the wind chimes haven’t sounded so Guanlin mustn’t have snuck out.

_Meow, meow._

“ _Meow?_ ” Minhyun responds, turning around. “Oh.”

He’s here. The nice smile.

“Ah! Hi there! Have you seen a boy about yea high?” The man who’d just appeared gestures up to his waist with a raised palm. Looking at his features again, Minhyun realises that he _does_ look pretty foreign. “So sorry for surprising you.”

His regular customer is blinking at him, bundled up in his usual parka, and holding a small blue character backpack. Things connect. That’s probably Guanlin’s.  

“I m-might’ve,” Minhyun stutters. He coughs. “I take it that the meowing was because of you?”

The man puts a hand on the back of his neck, expression sheepish. “Was he too loud? It was a thing I taught him in case he got lost. I didn’t mean for you to come out here.”

“No! I was just… doing something to this candle.” Minhyun swings around, to gesture at the lantern, but only ends up knocking it _hard_ with his fist. “Ow.”

He doesn’t know why he’s acting so awkwardly right now. Probably because he just spent the last few minutes imagining Guanlin’s hyung in his head, and definitely not expecting him to be… _him._

His hand hurts.

“Woah, are you alright?” the man asks, shocked, an arm outstretched. “Should I take a look at it?”

Minhyun’s hand is still tingling, and his cheeks feel warm, but the air around him is definitely cold.

“No, it’s fine!” Minhyun quickly assures, snatching it away. He’s done worse, and the burn scars underneath the arms of his collared shirt prove it. For some reason, Minhyun just wishes that he hadn’t shown that side of him yet.

He side-steps to hold the door open, plastering on a smile. “Don’t worry, just come in. It’s cold out here.”

Thankfully, the first thing Minhyun had done before opening the bakery, even before the sun rose, was to clean and organise the front of the store. That at least is presentable. The kitchen is still in shambles from when he abandoned his batter to talk to Sujin, but he tells himself to attend to it later.

Guanlin looks over from where he’s sitting at the wooden table next to the window, one hand still petting the cat, and the other rummaging through the bag of palmiers.

“Hyung!” he yells, jumping up to poke the man in his side. The worry in the man’s face melts away, and he smiles widely.

“Did you have fun with ahjussi?” the man asks brightly. Minhyun’s eyes widen. So _he’s_ the one responsible.

Guanlin nods vigorously, and holds up the bag of palmiers. “Here! Eat!”

The man’s eyes look like they’re ready to pop out, and he bends down with his palm front-forward. “Wow! You remember how to say ‘here’ and ‘eat’ in Korean! That’s awesome, Guanlin!”

Guanlin returns the high-five and beams gummily, and Minhyun begins to wonder how the man can communicate with Guanlin so easily, until he realises that the boy’s responding to the enthusiasm in his voice.

The man stands back up. “Thank you so much for the pastries,” he begins apologetically, pulling off his jacket to pat the pockets of the other one he’s wearing inside. “Six thousand won, right? I know I still had some notes in here somewhere…”

It’s fine. Everything’s connecting now. He’d figured out what makes the man’s days so tough. Being a foreigner, in addition to looking after a brother with such a large age gap- there must be some trouble with money. The man has to keep spending money to buy his good luck pastries, cancelling the spell out. And it’s not like Minhyun even bakes for the money anyway.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. They were a present for Guanlin. On the house.” Minhyun puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, and the man stops rummaging to look at him. “Really.”

“Thanks, but-” the man looks at the hand on his shoulder. Now that Minhyun’s put it on there, it feels too awkward to simply take off. Plus he admits that it feels kind of nice too- slender, and somewhat sturdy.

That’s a strange thought.

He doesn’t seem to notice Minhyun’s internal conflict, and continues. “I feel bad for your hand though. And you had to take him in. He’s my responsibility now, and I just-”

The other’s shoulder suddenly tenses. Minhyun wonders whether removing it right at this moment would be too obvious, but then Seongwu turns his head, staring straight at him. “This feels a little weird…” he trails off.

_Crap._

Crap, crap, crap. Minhyun immediately retracts his hand. He had been practically groping him. Or something. Of course, touching a stranger’s shoulder would be weird. What was he even thinking? His hand is even tingling from how long he was doing the offending act.

“I’m so, so sorry.” Minhyun really is. He has to restrain himself from raising his hands to show the depth of his apologies, lest the other misinterprets his gesture. He settles with curling his fists into balls, one on either side. Minhyun’s feeling way too stiff right now.

The man tilts his head, with an expression of what Minhyun is interpreting as intense scrutiny. “I’m not sure why…”

The side of a finger brushes his neck for just a second, and then there’s a slight weight on his shoulder. “Do you feel something? Or is it just me?”

Minhyun freezes. “I- feel-”

The sound of a standard iPhone ringtone suddenly saves Minhyun from his stammering. It’s not Minhyun’s- he had made it a habit to keep his phone in the kitchen. Concentration needs to be kept on his books, and attuning himself to the feeling of sparks that vaguely comes through from the magic running in his veins.

“Sorry,” the man apologises, raising his palm, and then proceeding to juggle both Guanlin’s backpack, and his parka, to rapidly pat through all the pockets. “I only have the sound on for a few people, so this is probably an important call.”

Dang. Minhyun doesn’t know why he feels so disappointed.

He watches the man struggle for a bit, before stepping forward to take Guanlin’s backpack. “Oh thanks,” the man smiles appreciatively, glancing up, before going back to his pocket-searching. “Guanlin needs to go to school soon, so if it’s okay with you, could you help put the bag on for him?”

“Sure,” Minhyun complies a little too somberly. He leans down with the bag, and Guanlin stares back questioningly. “Um.”

The child raises an eyebrow, and then turns around, back facing him, arms spread out in a T-shape.

“Ah yes. Thank you, Guanlin.”

Once he’s successfully manoeuvred the backpack onto Guanlin’s shoulders, the man makes an _Aha!_ sound, and then pulls a phone out. “Oh man, I have to call them back asap but,” a hand is put out, and the nice smile flashed again, “I realised I’ve never actually introduced myself so, I’m Ong Seongwu!”

Oh.

“Hwang Minhyun.”

Seongwu’s grip is firm. He swears people don’t usually shake their hands for this long, but he’s really not complaining.

After a while Seongwu lets go, and points over his shoulder towards the door. “I should probably head off now. Got to take Guanlin to school and, you know, return that call.”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.” Minhyun attempts to smile. It’s kind of difficult when his palms are so damp and his heart is beating so fast. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Definitely!” Seongwu calls back, already halfway out the door, hand in Guanlin’s.

The wind chimes somehow sound brighter than they usually are, the glow of the rising sun streaming through and reflecting off the snow, painting a golden line down the side of Seongwu’s profile.

Damn.

He’s really, kind of, beautiful.  

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

It’s something he’d never noticed before, the energy in the airport. Amongst a bustle of people, in the midst of a torrent of different languages, the air around him _crackles_.  

Sujin had taught him that one method of strengthening his magic was through a sort of meditation, to continue feeling the magic inherited through their bloodlines, until it no longer stayed within and manifested naturally in his everyday. Thus staying in the bakery most hours made it easy to zero in on his own energy, the quiet ambience disrupted only by the occasional customer.

Standing in the airport though, completely receptive to not only his own, but others as well, he can’t pinpoint the distinct energy that suggests Sujin no matter how hard he tries. There’s really just a mass of something, something that can only be identified as magic.

Fine.

Minhyun wades back through the crowd to lean against a column near the sliding doors of the arrival hall.

The drive to Incheon had been tiring, especially considering the sleepless nights he’d been having. Long and exerting sleepless nights, tossing and turning in the sheets, with a certain Ong Seongwu.

Mentally, of course.

The man, the one who he’d affectionately dubbed ‘Nice Smile’ for a day, never came back. A week ago, when Minhyun left the store late at night after baking fifty more palmiers, he noticed that the flame of the filtering spell was still there in the middle of a collapsed cinnamon pile.

Then a few days ago, Minhyun had the epiphany that Seongwu was a Korean name, not a foreign one like Guanlin’s. It kept him up at night, snuggled in his blankets and staring at the ceiling, going through his theories as to who exactly Ong Seongwu was. It didn’t help that he couldn’t be found on Naver search.

Minhyun hadn’t needed to think too hard though.

Over the past seven months, Seongwu had always come into the bakery at random times of the day. He never bought just one pastry, like Minhyun’s other customers would, rather his tray was always piled with many at once. And at the time, Minhyun didn’t mind. The more good luck pastries Seongwu consumed, the better.

Now Minhyun finds it fishy. Some customers would eat their pastry right on the spot, others would sit at the bench and stare out the window with their pastry half-hanging from their mouth.

And now, when Minhyun thinks about it, he’d never actually seen Seongwu _eat_ one of them.

So after racking his head for the umpteenth time, last night Minhyun had finally figured out a theory that made sense. It was obvious, really.

It had been obvious, and he didn’t know why he didn’t see it before. He was probably blinded by Seongwu’s good looks, and-

“Minhyun-ssi?”

Minhyun looks up from where he had been staring at the floor, to see the very man who’s been keeping him up every night of this week.

Dang. He looks even better than he remembers.

Seongwu’s wearing the same white parka and black jeans he always wears- it’s only his countenance that looks overly different, expression a little gentler, smile stretching out and reaching his eyes.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Minhyun quickly straightens himself and puts on the toughest expression he knows, eyebrows knitted and lips jutting out. It helps somewhat with steadying his voice.

“Seongwu-ssi. What are you doing here?”

Seongwu looks slightly startled by the tone of Minhyun’s inquiry, both hands flying up to grip the straps of his backpack. “Oh, I’m here for, um, work.”

Aha! That confirms his theory _exactly._ Well, somewhat. “Great! That’s excellent. You must be picking something up.”

The same gentle expression comes back to Seongwu’s face, slightly put at ease by Minhyun’s sudden smile. “Yeah! Someone! I’m picking someone up. How about you?”

“Same. I’m also picking someone up.” Minhyun doesn’t know why they’re being so secretive about specifying who they’re meeting. He also doesn’t know how it lends to his theory that Seongwu is some sort of pastry trafficker.

Seongwu’s hands come down from his bag straps, settling shyly together in front of his hips. Minhyun’s eyes wander down, and then his gaze quickly shifts back up to the other’s face when he begins to speak.

“I almost passed you by. It’s strange seeing you without your apron.”

“And it’s strange seeing you… not in my bakery.”

Minhyun tries not to wrinkle his nose at his reply. Honestly.

Surprisingly, Seongwu chuckles. Minhyun hadn’t heard his laugh before. It’s nice. It’s especially nice seeing his eyes crinkle as he shakes his head at the floor.

And now Minhyun’s giggling too. He doesn’t know why, but something about Seongwu just makes Minhyun want to giggle.

“Ah, that’s right!” Seongwu suddenly exclaims. “What happened to your bakery, anyway?”

Minhyun stops giggling to stare. Seongwu’s mouth is slightly open in genuine curiosity.

“My bakery?”

“Yeah, did you move to a new place? It’s all boarded up now.”

“Boarded up…?”

That would only make sense if the filtering spell had filtered Seongwu out from seeing his bakery. Which would make sense if Seongwu wasn’t having tough days anymore. But Seongwu doesn’t usually eat his good luck pastries, and even if he suddenly did, they never used to work in the past.

However, specificities aside, Minhyun’s secretly glad that Seongwu hadn’t stopped coming to his bakery for any other reason. Perhaps Minhyun missed him.

Seongwu’s shoulders are now slightly hunched, fingers unweaving, and then weaving back together. “I mean,” he clarifies. “I guess I could always buy stuff from another place, but you- I like you- y-your bakery-”

There’s a _ding_ that suddenly breaks the computing occurring in Minhyun’s brain, indicating an announcement over the airport’s PA system.

Seongwu takes cue to break eye contact, looking off to somewhere in the far distance.

“This is a staff announcement, if all airport staff could pay attention please. We are issuing an amber alert, Code Adam. I repeat all staff, we are-”

Seongwu suddenly grips Minhyun’s arm. “Code Adam. That’s official code for a missing child. Minhyun-ssi, there’s a child who’s lost somewhere in this airport.”

A lost child?

Seongwu explains. “They don’t say it outright, just in case there’s creeps listening to the announcement too. We should help them look, Minhyun-ssi. If we keep listening to the announcement, next they’ll say the name of the child, but in a very vague way.”

Minhyun slowly nods, taking in the panic in Seongwu’s eyes. It must be important to him.

“- Code Adam. Also, please be advised that if there is a passenger called Hwang Minhyun in the airport, please report to the customer service desk immediately-”

Seongwu’s grip loosens slightly. “Wait… Hwang Minhyun… isn’t that you?”

It is. It really, surely is.

Aron.

“Ah,” Minhyun sighs deeply, closing his eyes. Not again. “It’s my friend. With my noona. He always plays pranks like this. She never holds him back. I’m sorry for worrying you, Seongwu.” Minhyun belatedly adds a _-ssi_.

“Oh no, I’m just,” Seongwu breaks out into a smile. “I’m just really relieved.”

Looking at the worry unknot itself from Seongwu’s brow, Minhyun’s relieved too.

“Then you should probably go,” Seongwu continues. The smile is slowly turning into a grin. “You wouldn’t want to worry your ‘ _parents_ ’ _._ ”

The finger quotes hang in the air. Minhyun nods. Definitely. Of course.

He pushes himself off the column. “I guess this is goodbye,” Minhyun puts forward with uncertainty. If Seongwu hadn’t been able to see his bakery anymore, then his work here is done. He mastered the good luck spell, and Seongwu’s days are now better. There’s nothing really else he could do. Or should do.

Seongwu jerks forward though. “Wait!” he exclaims. Minhyun stands still. He hadn’t started moving anyway. “Um, you’re a really interesting person, Minhyun-ssi. And last time, in your bakery, I meant it when I said we should talk more. Is it okay if you give me your number?”

Minhyun’s heart stutters in his chest. Yes. With all the bones in his body, and the entirety of his being, damn triple yes.

“Sure. It’s because you need my number for deliveries, don’t you?” Minhyun answers nonchalantly.

Seongwu gapes at him.

Minhyun tends to be difficult when good things happen to him. And he’s not clueless about it either. It’s something that Sujin had noted, when she first tried teaching him magic, and the very basis of how it functioned in their world. Magic was always meant for good things, which is why, as the world advanced and endless possibilities opened up for the common folk, it became useless.

And so Minhyun’s parents had always warned him against limiting himself. That good isn’t always the be-all end-all, that there’s always the possibility of something _better._ Minhyun’s difficulty is a defence mechanism, against a society that encourages precaution, rather than acceptance.

Thus Minhyun doesn’t correct himself, and Seongwu’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Uh, yeah. Exactly.”

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

 **seongwu**  
no, no way  
so they left you on a bench in the mall with their wedding stuff  
and said they’ll be back in a minute, honey  
then one hour later they call code adam on you?

 **minhyun**  
yeah right who does that  
i guess it didn’t help that i told aron that my noona’s feet smelt bad  
but that’s only because she made me put the shoes on for her after we’d be walking around for ages

 **seongwu**  
haha that’s so ridiculous  
i’m so glad we exchanged numbers  
you’re really cute :)

 

Minhyun bites his lip.

Honestly, Sujin had only been testing the extent of Minhyun’s abilities, and whether he would be able to find the couple using only their energies. Aron, not knowing what was going on, was the one who suggested taking it a step further. After an hour of sitting on a bench and pretending to be sleeping though, Minhyun couldn’t locate them and used his phone to call them instead.

The bus jolts, and the bag hanging from Minhyun’s arm swings precariously, almost hitting an old lady in the face.

“I’m so sorry, halmeoni!” Minhyun exclaims, one arm still holding onto the hanging strap, the other arm, holding his phone, profusely apologising in a waving motion. It’d been a while since he took a bus. Seongwu said the place that they were meeting at didn’t have much parking around.

“That’s alright, son,” the old woman assures, looking up at him. “What’s in your bag? It smells delicious.”

“Just some pastries, halmeoni.”

“Well,” the old woman winks. “They smell positively _enchanting._ ”

Minhyun blinks in response. “Yes, they do.”

Looking around, he realises that the bus is nearing the stop, the one he’d researched beforehand on Google Maps. After quickly glancing at his phone, he groans.

 

 **seongwu**  
*your relationship with your sister is really cute  
*:)  
lol i can’t tell the difference between your and you’re sometimes

 

Darn. It’d been the third time that happened this week.

Minhyun’s style isn’t to delve straight into relationships- he likes to feel the other person out first, before deciding whether it’s something he really wants to commit to. It doesn’t help that Seongwu had been immediately cute and constantly accommodating though. The amount of times Minhyun’s heart fluttered- he already lost count.

Minhyun stumbles his way to the front of the bus, grabbing onto all the poles. As he attempts to grasp the last pole gently, the bag swings forward, and he leans back as far as he can to stop his pastries from being smooshed against the glass.

Suddenly the bus stops and the doors fly open, the momentum causing Minhyun to trip over his feet and fall out the door.

Large hands grip his upper arms firmly.

His whole body shivers.

Perhaps not diving in head first had worked when he wasn’t seeing Seongwu face-to-face.

Minhyun lets out a subconscious sigh when he raises his head. There’s something about Seongwu that just makes him want to smile- it’s not just how his features are placed in exactly the right position. It’s the look in his eyes, the way the corner of his lips quirk upwards, an arch of both brows.

“Woah! Did you just fall from heaven, because it felt like you were _dying_ to see me!”

The bag had swung in between them, and Minhyun can feel the pastries deflate against his chest.

That- that was weird. But coming from Seongwu, it actually sounded pretty funny.

Minhyun laughs. “If I’m dying to see you, I would be-” Minhyun wriggles down out of Seongwu’s grasp, then slowly wriggles his way back up, “- rising from my grave like this.”

For some reason, Minhyun didn’t have to think twice before doing that.

Seongwu’s eyes squeeze together, and he laughs, showing each one of his misplaced teeth. “You’re funny Minhyun, I like you- that.”

“I- I like-” Minhyun coughs. “That too.”

Seongwu brushes off Minhyun’s arms, and then takes a step back, face falling when the bag of pastries swings out from its former position between them. “Oh man, I hope they’re okay.”

Minhyun blinks a few times. “Ah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, they will be.”

Seongwu begins to rummage through his pockets. “I’m sorry for calling you outside like this in the cold,” he begins, furrowing his brow at the task. “It’s just that this park is the best location, and being in the middle of the city and all… um, I know it’s in here somewhere…”

Minhyun surveys the scene in front of him, wondering whether he should take the opportunity to cast a revival of sort on the pastries. Like all spells Minhyun casts, it takes time to bring the magic out through to his fingertips, though he had definitely sped up a little compared to the first time he tried casting magic.

“... the amount of pockets I have, um…”

Minhyun takes an unsteady step to the side, and then hustles the bag underneath a side of his coat. Pushing his hand into the bag, he closes his eyes and _concentrates_.

It starts from the base of his head, and moves downwards in short bursts of sparks, orienting itself as Minhyun furrows his brow _harder._ It moves back up from where it was stuck in his chest, and then across his shoulders, and through his arms, and finally the electricity pads his fingertips.

The bag immediately feels fuller than it did before.

“Aha!”

Minhyun quickly pulls the bag out and looks up at the sound of Seongwu’s voice.

“So Christmas is in a week, and I was in the mall for something yesterday,” Seongwu begins, holding something in his hand. Minhyun feels his heart skip a beat. “I don’t know, I was just passing by, but this reminded me of you?”

The other’s fist opens to reveal a shabbily wrapped present, in coloured paper, topped by a glittery bow. “Well, uh, the gift wrapping didn’t remind me of you, but the thing that’s inside.”

“Oh,” Minhyun utters, reaching out to take the present. It’s light, very light, almost like there’s nothing within.

“It was just something small, you don’t need to open it now,” Seongwu rambles. “Just a thank you, thank you for everything, um-” he turns around. “Yeah! Let’s go.”

His heart feels like bursting.

“Thanks!” Minhyun calls out, jogging after Seongwu. He slips the present into his pocket.

If the sky wasn’t so overcast, the sun would be shining proudly at its highest point. Many of the trees in the park have lost their leaves, remnants scattered on the dirt path, but there’s a persistent stream of tall dark green foliage on either side of them, the dense bush rising like monolithic walls against the concrete of the city. Following Seongwu deeper into the park, soon the sound of cars is replaced by the soft pattering of their feet.

“So Guanlin is in here somewhere?” Minhyun asks, looking curiously around at the increasing shrubbery.

“Yeah, he should be, I swear I left them around here,” Seongwu replies, glancing back.

“Meow.”

Seongwu does a double take, staring at Minhyun who’d cupped his hands around his mouth.

Minhyun feels his cheeks warm.

“Didn’t you say that you do this whenever he gets lost?” Minhyun hurriedly justifies.

“Well, he’s not exactly,” Seongwu says, letting out a chuckle. “He’s not exactly lost. But that’s a good idea.” Before Minhyun can process Seongwu’s comment, the other turns back towards the remaining length of footpath, and yells out a big _MEOW!_

Minhyun pauses, opening his ear.

“MEOW!” a shrill voice screams back, somewhere to their right.

Minhyun immediately looks at Seongwu, who looks back, and they both grin.

“Wow, that was a great _meow_ ,” Minhyun praises in genuine amazement, finding his hands being clapped together.

Seongwu does a mini salute. “I have a genius to thank,” he proudly one-ups.

The action makes him smile. Minhyun fiddles with the handle of the bag, before walking to the bushes and busying himself with the leaves to stop himself from doing one back.

Seongwu walks over to help him part the branches, pulling them back far enough to create a hole that could fit a grown man. All of a sudden there’s a rustling sound, and Minhyun feels a poke to his side. He looks down to see Guanlin beaming.

“Ahjussi!” the child yells. Minhyun automatically smiles. It’s adorable, the misnomer, and what small amount of offence he felt before is definitely nowhere to be found.

“Hi Guanlin!” Minhyun says cheerily. He had heard from Seongwu through their various text messages, how the other man was teaching Guanlin some words in Korean by attaching them to different figures and landmarks. Seongwu was a hyung. Minhyun, by default, was an ahjussi.

Beside him, Seongwu titters. “No, Guanlin. He’s not an ahjussi.” Seongwu turns to Minhyun, the suppressed laugh looking like it’s ready to come out. “I think I know how to fix this, just give me your hand.”

His hand…

Huh?

Minhyun slowly raises it, fingers slightly curled in hesitation. He glances at Seongwu, who returns his gaze with the same gentle expression he had seen on him before.

“I think if you do this,” Seongwu says, slowly pressing his palm against Minhyun’s, their fingers starting to unfurl in unison, “he’ll understand.”

Once Minhyun’s hand is fully open, Seongwu bends down to Guanlin’s height and carefully tugs at his wrist, telling Minhyun to do the same.

Then Seongwu turns to Guanlin. “Minhyun is a hyung!”

The child blinks, and then smiles gummily. “Hyung!” he yells, slapping Minhyun’s palm.

The vibrations of the impact run up his arm, and Minhyun grins back at the bright expression on Guanlin’s face, but his mind is fixed on the feeling of Seongwu’s fingers around his wrist.

It’s warm.

“Sorry, I know I’ve been kind of secretive. It’s just,” Seongwu releases his hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “confidentiality agreements at work. But I don’t know, I feel like I can trust you, plus Guanlin’s mother kept asking so…” Seongwu shrugs his shoulders. “Technically, it’s okay? Just… not official.”

Minhyun tilts his head in confusion, wondering whether any of his various theories fit in with what Seongwu had just said. He doesn’t really remember many of them though. He stopped trying to come up with new ones weeks ago.

“Now this time I know which pocket it’s in,” Seongwu grins, reaching into the one in front of the right side of his chest. He pulls a blue note out. “Oh man, not this.” Minhyun chuckles at the action, and Seongwu looks up, his eyes crinkling as he explains. “I always keep small notes, for vending machines and convenience stores, yada yada.”

That’s… smart. He’d never really thought about it in that way. Minhyun does the same, but mainly because his bakery isn’t official registered, and his income is all in cash now.

“Okay, here it is!” Seongwu announces, pulling something out with a flourish, before steadying himself from his unstable crouching position by reaching a hand out to the floor. “I work in social welfare. For child services.”

Seongwu hands him a small plastic card. “This is my ID, in case you think I’m lying, or something.”

Minhyun glances down, at the identification photo which is definitely very handsome, then to the words ‘SOCIAL WORKER’ in big letters. Oh. It all makes sense now.

“I know the big letters look kind of fake,” Seongwu begins, pointing at the card. “One of my coworkers, Jisung, thought it’d be a good idea, but it really just raises more questions than answers them.”

The last thing on his mind is whether Seongwu’s shady. Minhyun’s brain is working in overdrive, starting to connect the dots. “Is that why you kept buying my pastries?” Minhyun asks, eyes wide. “For kids?”

Seongwu smiles. “Yeah! I don’t know what you put in them- I mean I have my guesses but, they always make my kids a little happier. I wish you could feel what it’s like, seeing a kid who never used to smile, suddenly smile with the biggest gums in the world.” Seongwu laughs, poking Guanlin’s side. “It’s kind of magical.”

Minhyun feels like he does know though. It took seven months to elicit a smile from the man crouching down in front of him.

“Also, I'm not sure if it was a coincidence that I was in your bakery, but the phone call I got a few weeks ago was about Guanlin’s mother finally getting a visa for residency,” Seongwu explains. He lowers his eyes, and his voice goes meek. “I told the translator that I wasn’t the one who made Guanlin happier though. So actually,” he looks up hesitantly. “His mother’s here too. Is that alright?”

Minhyun nods.

It’s weird- when he had opened the bakery, even though he knew that he was baking good luck spells into pastries, he never thought about a person's life  _beyond_ the spell. It was just supposed to be a simple task of who was having a bad day, and who wasn't. 

Seongwu finishes off sending a message on the phone he had just pulled out.

“I don’t think she’ll come through the bushes like Guanlin did, but- ah!”

Minhyun looks up to see a middle-aged woman shyly approaching them from the top of the pathway.

“Uh, she can only speak Chinese, so,” Seongwu leans closer to Minhyun, lowering his voice. “Start with _ni hao_.”

The air is ticklish against his already warm ears.

Guanlin runs up the pathway as the woman nears them, shouting something to her in a foreign language. Minhyun stands, bringing the bag of pastries out in front of him.

“Ni hao,” Minhyun greets awkwardly. “It was the pastries, not me.”

He hands them over to the woman, who smiles at him with Guanlin’s arms wrapped around her waist.

Instead of taking the bag though, the woman clasps his hands. “Thank you. Thank you, Minhyun!”

The cold wind seems to still around them for a second.

“It’s not-” Minhyun closes his eyes and takes a breath. He looks up again with a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

Minhyun had been eight, full on colourful rice cakes and his grandmother’s cookies, when his parents gave Sujin an ultimatum.

The sky had been a pitch black, soft beams of moonlight casting a glow over the traditional kitchen. From his position under the table though, Minhyun couldn’t see any stars in the sky.

“Sujin-ah! There’s no future in witchcraft!” The booming voice had rattled the thin walls. “Eomma, I _told_ you that I didn’t want my child to be exposed to these things.”

Minhyun had curled up tighter, looking down to stare blankly at his hand, still dirtied with crumbs.

“Sujin, I can’t believe you brought Minhyun here. Don’t you remember what we said? What if something happened to him?”

“If you keep running away, Sujin-ah, we’ve warned you, we’ll have no choice.”

Minhyun had lifted a trembling finger, breath coming out in shakily short bursts. “1… 2…”

“Son, don’t. It’s my fault. Don’t do this to Sujin. I called her here. Don’t you remember the mirrors?”

Minhyun had sped up his counting, eyes squeezed shut. “3.. 4.. 5..”

“Appa. I want to stay here. I’m going to stay here and learn magic in Busan.”

Minhyun’s eyes had flown open, right as he whispered a _seven_.

“Fine.”

Chuseok in Busan was the first time he had heard about magic. 

But not until sixteen years later, in the exact same kitchen, looking through a box of his grandmother’s old photographs, did he realise, magic wasn’t something he wanted to forget.

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

“Halmeoni’s proud of you, you know.”

“And how would you know that?” Minhyun asks brashly, looking up from his task of rolling out an eleventh ball of dough. The afternoon had been tough, especially considering Sujin's ban on spells when Aron's around. He lifts a floured hand to squeeze his aching arm. “And leave the cat out of the kitchen, noona. This time people are _going_ to notice if there's cat hairs in the cookies.”

Sujin continues standing at the doorway, absentmindedly petting the cat in her arms. There’s an unreadable smile on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. Since halmeoni left, it feels like her spirit’s still around.” Then she scoffs. “Don’t question me, Min. You know I’m more attuned to these things.”

True. But Minhyun’s still trying to figure out how to show his appreciation to her properly.

“ _Don’t question me, Min,”_ Minhyun imitates in an obnoxiously high voice. “ _You know I’m-_ ”

Minhyun shuts up when he’s suddenly face-to-face with the rolling pin.

“I know we haven’t spent much time with each other since the funeral,” Sujin snarks. “But I don’t remember you being this childish.”

Minhyun smiles at the rolling pin. It’d been eight months. But he’s starting to feel that there’s really no use in thinking too hard.

“When are you going to teach me _that_ spell, _noona,_ ” he whines, pointing poutily at the floating baking tool. “I want to learn _that_ one.”

Sujin’s gaze is positively murderous, the rolling pin floating closer to his face, when suddenly Minhyun’s eyes widen.

“Is Sujin teaching you something, Minhyun?”

The rolling pin clatters to the table.

“Honey!” Sujin exclaims, shoving the cat into Aron’s arms. She turns him around and pushes him out the doorway. “No, Min’s doing fine so far, I’m pretty sure baking cookies is one of the most basic recipes. How’s the glazing by the way? Are they set?”

Minhyun shakes his head fondly, watching how Sujin walks Aron over to the counter, filled with trays of cookies, and back hugs him to help spoon out the glazing. There used to be jealousy directed at their relationship. But not anymore.

Minhyun finishes off rolling out the dough, before glancing at the cookie cutter lying on the table. The longer he keeps his eyes on it, the more his chest warms, and the more it aches with yearning. It’s beautiful, the metal curling into a slender shape, set prettily into the outline of a butterfly. Seongwu had messaged him the meaning of it, after Minhyun sent him a photo of the cookie cutter still in the pile of wrapping paper.

 

 **_minhyun_ **  
_[img_777.jpg]_  
_maybe the paper does represent me, it looks pretty schmancy fancy_

 **_seongwu_ **  
_i guess it does and i guess i fancy you :)_  
_*i guess it represents a fancy you_  
_*:)_  
_lol always getting my korean mixed up_

 **_minhyun_ **  
_oh_  
_right yeah same_

 **_seongwu_ **  
_ah actually it’s the butterfly_  
_there’s this thing called the butterfly effect that one of my teenagers mentioned_  
_the most insignificant good things cause the biggest changes in people’s lives_  
_it’s what you’re doing now_  
_^^_

 

Minhyun grabs the cutter and delicately presses it into the dough a few times. His hand feels tired after a few presses though, so he glances up to check that Sujin is occupied, and then purses his lips, closing his eyes to _concentrate._

The familiar tingling begins, and this time it doesn’t take long for the magic to come out. He’s watching in satisfaction as the cutter moves rapidly by itself over the dough, the shivers induced by the magic running through his body, when he suddenly hears his name being called.

“Min! He’s here!”

Minhyun quickly opens his eyes.

It’s too early.

Hurriedly wiping his hands on his apron before untying it, he grabs his coat from the hanger next to the door, then bustles out.

He glides past Aron at the counter who’s giving him a knowing smile, and then past Sujin holding open the front door, nodding her head like she’d just approved of something. Seongwu’s standing at the doorway, a grin on his face.

“Merry Christmas!” Seongwu says cheerily, stepping sideways to let Minhyun out. The door swings shut. “I’m so glad you decided to reopen your bakery.” Then he lowers his voice. “Plus was that Hwang Sujin?”

Minhyun glances at the antique lantern next to the door, piled to the top with a strange mixture of snow and month-old cinnamon. It hadn’t been relit in a while.

“Well, I reopened the bakery just for you,” Minhyun smiles, hands deep in his coat pockets. He bounces nervously on the balls of his feet, hand curled around an object inside. “And yeah, she’s my noona. I had to get her to help. I can’t believe you’re in charge of so many kids.”

Seongwu smiles bashfully. “Sorry, I’m a bit enthusiastic about picking up cases. But wow, we watch your noona’s show in the office all the time. She’s an amazing chef, how she does everything so fast.”

“Mm,” Minhyun hums. “She really is.”

Minhyun looks at the ground, shuffling his feet.

He should probably give it to him now.

“Seongwu. You’re a good person,” Minhyun begins, keeping his eyes away from the other’s face. His palms are getting sweatier the longer they stay in his pockets. “Good people are rare in this world. Especially people with good intentions.” Now that he’d started, he really wants to stop, but he can feel Seongwu looking at him curiously.

Minhyun takes a box the size of his palm out, wrapped in a silver bow. “Merry Christmas? I’m hoping that you could use this to keep up your… good.”

There’s no answer, so Minhyun glances up.

A lock of hair had fallen out of place, gently curling over Seongwu’s brow. But Seongwu’s expression isn’t at all what he expected. The other’s smile is fading, the look in his eyes distant and empty.

_Crap._

Seongwu sighs deeply, taking the box from him. His hand now feels empty and cold. “Ah. Is this a parting gift? Are you finally rejecting me?” Seongwu looks at the ground solemnly. “I should’ve known that you had a thing for bad boys.”

Minhyun gapes at him. “No!” he exclaims, grabbing Seongwu by the arms. Seongwu looks up in shock, and this time Minhyun makes sure to look at him straight in the eyes. “What I’m trying to say, is that I got you something _actually_ fancy. Because I also fancy you. Back.”

The air is filled only with Minhyun’s heavy breathing.

Seongwu’s eyes widen. “Oh.” He looks down, and then back up. “Oh.”

Minhyun blinks. “What?”

“Well, I’m just deciding whether I should open your present now, or whether I should kiss you.”

Seongwu’s eyes begin to crinkle. Minhyun opens his mouth in surprise.

 _Ah_.

_Ahhh._

Oh.

“Kiss!” Minhyun blurts out. Seongwu is definitely smiling now. He coughs. “I- I mean,” Minhyun quickly clarifies. “I didn’t open your present until I got home, so you shouldn’t open yours until you do too. Logically, that means we only have one option left.”

Seongwu grins, nodding his head slowly. Minhyun notices him slip the box into one of his pockets. “That’s true. And you have great powers of deduction which are kind of, really attractive.” Seongwu’s eyes shift for just a second. “But don’t you have something to tell me first?” Pointing to somewhere behind Minhyun, towards the bakery, his head tilts to one side. “Like why the present I gave you last week is floating in mid-air?”

Minhyun quickly turns around. The door of the bakery is wide open, the cat acting like some sort of door stopper, staring up at him with an expression of supposed innocence.

When Minhyun moves his gaze upwards, exactly to where Seongwu had said, the butterfly cookie cutter is floating in the doorway, much to the horror of Sujin who’s frozen behind it. And when he looks beyond, he swears he can see something else unexpected- what looks like… amusement on Aron’s face?

Anyhow, he’s pretty sure there’s no way he can explain himself out of this one.

Eyes still fixed on the butterfly, Minhyun’s mouth begins to contort into all kinds of odd shapes. “Well… you know… in Harry Potter…”

“Magic,” Seongwu interrupts, his voice slightly louder. “That’s magic, isn’t it?”

Minhyun can feel his palms getting damp. "Uh... maybe... a certain kind..."

"Your pastries are magical, aren't they?"

Minhyun feels his heart stop for a second, but when he hurriedly turns back to explain, he’s only met by a soft exhale of warm air on his skin.

“Now that I think about it,” Seongwu whispers, lips close enough to raise goosebumps. “Maybe you should just tell me later.”

A slow creaking, the soft sound of wind chimes.

“Okay,” Minhyun whispers back, his hands naturally rising to Seongwu’s hips. “Oka-” he barely breathes out with eyes half-lidded, as the rest of the word is drowned out by Seongwu’s kiss.

Minhyun sighs in contentment, their lips pressed gently together, Seongwu tenderly holding him with a hand on the back of his head. And then it deepens, and Minhyun can’t remember who goes in first, only that it feels firm, and warm, then soft, and Seongwu groans when Minhyun moves his hand to his jaw and kisses him harder.

The sudden sound startles him. Something tickles in Minhyun’s chest, and before he knows it, he’s giggling against Seongwu’s mouth. The other starts laughing too.

“Did you feel it as well?” Seongwu finally says, after they’ve caught their breaths.

Minhyun blinks, an arm now around Seongwu’s waist, their foreheads pressed together. “No?” 

“You didn’t feel sparks, or a tingling…?” Seongwu asks slowly, his eyes searching Minhyun’s confused ones.

_Is that so…_

Minhyun clears his throat. “Well, maybe that part happens for me later. I’m still learning magic, so we should probably keep kissing to find out.”

Seongwu’s eyes widen. “Oh! Yes. Definitely. We should.”

Minhyun closes his eyes again, bringing his hand back up to Seongwu’s jaw, and this time he kisses with his mind only on _Seongwu_. Soon the shivers are running marathons through his body, and his legs are starting to feel like jelly, so he walks backwards, still wrapped around the other, and there’s a _thump_ as his back hits the door.

Kissing Seongwu feels like fireworks tingling in his fingers, and he’s pretty sure most of it isn’t his own magic because it feels _different_. They’re not originating from his head, they’re bursting from his chest, and Seongwu brings a hand up to thread through his hair, then down to cup his cheek, and Minhyun’s lost in the warmth and perfection, his mind filled with nothing else, their intertwining finally ending in a gentle nip and some soft sucks, leaving him panting when they part.

“Did you know that I’ve always really liked you?” Seongwu says, smiling playfully when Minhyun tries to kiss him again.

Minhyun hears himself whine. “Maybe. Kind of. You weren’t very discreet.”

Seongwu leans in, pressing kisses to the back of Minhyun’s ear, causing him to close his eyes with a heavy breath, his hold around the other’s waist growing tighter.

“Well, you weren’t very discreet too,” Seongwu whispers, pulling back to show Minhyun the full extent of his jutting bottom lip.

Minhyun blinks in confusion. Oh. It’s an actual pout now.

Seongwu continues pouting, brows furrowed.

“What?” Minhyun asks. He really wants to kiss the pout away, but he has a feeling he shouldn’t, at least not now.  

Seongwu huffs. “Did you always like me as well, or were you leading me on the whole time and this is just a recent thing?”

“Uh…”

Minhyun swallows, unable to find words. He knows full well the feeling of butterflies in his stomach which Seongwu’s life energy had given him, whenever the other entered the bakery’s vicinity

Seongwu stares at him for a moment, then presses a kiss to the corner of Minhyun’s lips. “I’m pretty sure you always liked me. I know because Jisung used to buy pastries from you too.”

“He did?” Minhyun asks softly, recalling a few customers’ faces that slightly fit his impression of Jisung, based on what Seongwu had told him before.

Seongwu nods. “He did, for a while, a few months ago. But then he stopped, because for some reason his pastries were always stale. Or burnt.”

Minhyun’s mouth slightly opens.

“But judging from my kids’ reactions, I don’t think the pastries you sold me were ever like that,” Seongwu points out, eyes alive with mischief. “Your magic doesn’t so happen to include keeping pastries fresh, does it?”

Minhyun flicks a tongue out nervously. “That spell… might be in my repertoire?”

“So either you really hated Jisung, _or_ you really liked me,” Seongwu puts forward. Then his eyebrows raise. “Or both?”

Minhyun laughs. It’s a light one, but he can’t shake the growing heaviness in his chest. He can feel his own face starting to fall, the corners of his lips lowering, his gaze moving elsewhere. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I didn’t confess sooner.”

Seongwu’s silent for a while. Minhyun lets his eyes fall onto the side of Seongwu’s waist, his own hand peering out. A few fingers flex.  _1... 2..._

Seongwu sighs. “There’s a kid I once had to take from her apartment, because her neighbours kept seeing bruises on her arms, and they kept hearing screaming at night.” There's a long pause. “I think she knew magic.”

Minhyun's heart quickly leadens, and he looks up, gaze unsteady. “Is that why she was treated like that?”

“From what was yelled at us as we left the apartment, I think it was,” Seongwu answers, face somber. “Minhyun. Did you have to suppress it too? When you were a kid?”

His chest suddenly feels tighter, memories coming back of being alone in his bedroom, wondering if life would be different if he had stayed in Busan. A wave of hurt floods up, the hollow of his chest filled, but then it gets stuck, only a single word coming out. “Yeah.”

Seongwu exhales, bringing his arms up, wrapping him in a hug. It knocks the breath out of him, and Minhyun automatically closes his eyes, dropping his face onto Seongwu’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Seongwu whispers, the tone of his voice pushing through the cotton wool in his mind. “You don’t have to second-guess yourself around me. You’re allowed to be real.”

A prickling begins beneath his lids. “I’m not a kid anymore though,” Minhyun contests, voice starting to shake. “I shouldn’t be like this. If I want something, I should just take it.”

There’s a slow rearrangement, as Seongwu unwraps himself to place his hands comfortingly on either side of Minhyun’s face. Hot tears begin to well in his eyes. “It’s okay,” Seongwu reassures, giving him a smile that makes Minhyun look down in embarrassment. He waits for Minhyun to look up before continuing. “Minhyun, the world is selfish, but you’re not. And that’s okay. I don’t like you because of the pastries, or the magic. When the world sees it as useless, you’re brave enough to do good. I like you, because of you.”

His bottom lip wobbles, brows knitting together in an effort to compose, but his vision blurs. Seongwu knocks their foreheads lightly together, before kissing his temple, then holding him tight, and finally Minhyun lets the tears flow.

It immediately comes to him that in the box filled with photographs given by Sujin, the ones of memories worn out from another’s revisiting them, the photo at the very top was a washed out print of Minhyun, Sujin and their grandmother. In that little village on the outskirts of Busan, they gathered underneath a tree of orange autumn leaves, the air buzzing, expressions bright with bags of colourful rice cakes.

Minhyun had remembered then, after lifting the top photograph, the disposable camera he used to take a photo of each person they gave a bag to. It was to capture the moment, that after eating each one of the rice cakes a person was always happy. At the time, Minhyun didn’t know why.

Travelling back to Seoul, three people in a silent car ride, that wonder slowly faded. He sent the photographs off in an envelope addressed to Busan, along with all his memories of magic.

But he had soon found that no matter where he went, and how much he didn't want to believe it, it wasn’t something he could escape from.

It runs in his veins, a thrum.

 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 

There’s a bakery in the middle of a dilapidated block in a forgotten neighbourhood in Seoul.

The first time a person comes across it, they’re led by a cat, walking through windy streets until they reach a storefront that looks like it belongs to another era.

If a person decides to find it again, somehow remembering its location in a pile of buried bad memories, most times the storefront is no longer the same. Identical now to the buildings beside it, with wooden planks nailed to its door, the only signs of life are the spiders living in the cobwebs coating the windows.

Otherwise, if the pile of bad memories is left festering and unburied, the door is unlocked.

Sometimes there’s a tall man wearing an outfit that doesn’t fit his occupation, save for the apron tied around his body. He’s on the tips of his toes, reaching into a cast-iron lantern, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Hey!” a voice shouts too close to Minhyun’s ear, arms suddenly wrapping around his torso.

Minhyun bites his lip to suppress a giggle, sparks still running through his body from when they had started a while ago. He still hasn’t told Seongwu that he can feel whenever the other enters the vicinity. He realised that he likes receiving surprises from him, even though he’s never really surprised by them.

“Hey to you too,” he replies, turning his head back to give Seongwu a quick peck on the lips. “Why are you here in the afternoon? I thought you had to pick up some kids from school.”

Seongwu’s expression is… Minhyun knows that look. It’s the look that Seongwu has whenever he’s done something that Minhyun wouldn’t approve of.

There’s a sudden noise somewhere below him, to his right. “Blergh, that’s gross. Hyung, you’re going to get _cooties._ ”

Minhyun quickly whips around, Seongwu still latched onto him tight. Seongwu’s voice whispers in his ear. “Babe, please don’t be mad. It’ll only be for a little while. I just don’t have enough space in the car.”

As always.

This time there’s a male child, face furrowed with an expression of disgust. He looks older than Guanlin, and his arms are crossed.

Minhyun bends down to his height, and Seongwu leans down with him, shifting position slightly so there’s still arms wrapped around his waist. The child flushes at Minhyun’s sudden attention. Minhyun smiles softly, then turns to kiss Seongwu on the cheek. “You don’t get cooties if you kiss boys.”

The small jaw drops open.

“Hey! Jihoon’s not old enough!” Seongwu exclaims, letting go of Minhyun in shock. Minhyun giggles in response, and then grabs the other to give him another big kiss.

When he turns back to Jihoon, the child is starry-eyed. “Really?” Jihoon says with wonder.

As Minhyun nods, he feels something shaking his arm. But Seongwu’s on his left side, chin dropped poutily on his shoulder, and his right arm’s the one being shook, so…

“Hyung said that I could buy food from you,” another high-pitched voice says, this time in a Busan accent.

Hang on.

Minhyun slowly turns his head to see another child, holding a very familiar leather wallet.

“That’s- that’s expensive!” Minhyun exclaims, swinging around to give Seongwu his best furrowed brow. “I gave you that for Christmas!”

Seongwu offers only a sheepish smile back. “I know. But Woojin said he was hungry, and I didn’t want him thinking that he could get food for free.”

Minhyun tries to frown, but it only ends up as a pout. “Okay. Go drop off your other kids. But you’ll have to make it up to me later. Tonight.”

Seongwu grins, pinching Minhyun on a spot where Seongwu knows he’s sensitive, causing him to squirm. “When do I ever disappoint?”

His ears warm. He never does.

There’s a soft patting suddenly starting on his hand, and Minhyun turns his head questioningly. “Hm?”

“What are you doing tonight?” Jihoon asks, eyes wide with curiosity. Minhyun almost chokes on his spit. “Is it something bad?”

“They’re probably going to kiss _more,_ ” Woojin says matter-of-factly. Jihoon gives the other child a surprised stare.

Minhyun looks at Seongwu uneasily, but the other only shrugs his shoulders. “Technically, you started it,” he offers. Excuse me? Minhyun drops an aggressive arm on Seongwu’s shoulder, causing the other to laugh. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Just give Jihoon a lot to eat, and he’ll probably stop asking questions. And let Woojin play with some kitchen utensils, he’ll never get bored if you give him something to do.”

“I’m trusting you on this,” Minhyun says, with eyes narrowed. Seongwu only laughs back.

Minhyun stands up, offering a hand towards Seongwu. “You should get going,” he says nonchalantly. _So I can see you again quicker_ , Minhyun mentally adds.  

Seongwu nods slowly, allowing himself to be pulled up, and then suddenly uses the momentum to swing both arms around Minhyun’s neck. “One more for the road?” he grins.

Minhyun bites his lip, a smile starting to form. “Six thousand won please, or you’ll get your good luck through pastries like everybody else.”

 _Even though I’d trade the world for you,_ remains unspoken. 

Seongwu leans forward, and presses his nose against Minhyun’s. “Can I open a tab? I think I’ll be needing a lot more than six thousand won.”

At this point he’s feeling a little giddy. 

There’s a tingle in his chest when he closes his eyes.

He doesn’t need words.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> :(  
> \- pouts like minhyun and seongwu because they're the true children in this au and no one can convince me otherwise - 
> 
>  
> 
> thankyou to the mods of sirius rises for organising this wonderful fest, and i always submit after deadlines, but you two are amazing for being so accommodating <3
> 
> and to my lovely prompter: this turned out to be so much longer and perhaps slightly different from what you were expecting, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! (and it was a very, very cute prompt)
> 
> and to you, dear reader: thank you for reading, and i wish you _good luck!_ with everything you do ~ ♡
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. moodboard link [x](https://twitter.com/birthdayblur/status/1054925972120645632)


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